Transfiguration
by ShiningKami
Summary: Desmond's story should have ended in the Grand Temple. Ash's Unova region journey should have begun. Someone, however, has other plans for them. But how will Desmond cope with stopping a second catastrophe while trapped in a body that's not his own? Rated T for swearing and possibly some violence. Desmond/Lucy and some PokéShipping (Ash/Misty).
1. Chapter 1: The Story So Far

**Disclaimer: I own neither Assassin's Creed or Pokémon. They belong to Ubisoft and Nintendo, respectively. Neither do I own any of the characters.**

**I also do not claim the idea for this story as my own! The original concept was proposed by Recycler, who has given me permission to repost, rewrite and continue the original. Also, this story is kind of AU, set between the end of the anime's Sinnoh arc and the start of the Unova arc. With that out of the way, here we go.**

* * *

Desmond Miles had never wanted to be a hero. He had never wanted to be involved in an ancient war between two secret groups that had each manipulated historical events and figures to further their goals for humanity, nor did he want to sacrifice his own life to jump-start a machine to save humanity from a solar flare that would have flipped the poles and caused total chaos.

Perhaps an explanation is in order.

In Desmond's world, there were two major, yet extremely secret organizations that seek to control the fate of mankind. One was called the Knights Templar, or simply the Templars. They sought to control the human race through ancient artefacts called the Pieces of Eden – objects left behind by an ancient race of humanoids known as Those Who Came Before; objects that could manipulate a sentient mind to the user's will. The second was the Brotherhood of the Assassins, who sought the same artefacts, except they wanted to ensure the survival of free will, and show the world the truth.

Desmond had been born into this conflict on 13 March 1987. In his youth, he had been rigorously trained as a member of the Assassin Order, learning skills to fight, survive, and obtain information that might lead to a target, among other things. At the age of sixteen, fed up with such a rigid lifestyle and wondering about the world outside his South Dakota desert compound, Desmond ran away. For nine years, he had lived in hiding, using all of his childhood training to avoid detection by the Assassins, eventually winding up working as a bartender in New York City.

However, all his training could not prevent him being discovered by the Templars, operating under the guise of a pharmaceutical company called Abstergo Industries. On 1 September 2012, he was kidnapped and forced into a machine called an Animus – a virtual-reality device that could scan a person's genome and unlock memories that were contained there. In practice, the Animus would locate the genetic memories of a subject and display them in three dimensions, forcing the subject to relive the memories of their ancestors as though they were their own, while also allowing an observer to view them. During his imprisonment in Abstergo's Italian laboratory, Desmond lived through the memories of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, a Syrian Assassin from the Third Crusade. He also developed a friendship with Lucy Stillman, an employee who worked with him during his sessions.

When a map detailing the location of the Pieces of Eden was found from Altaïr's memories, Abstergo executives deemed Desmond to be no longer useful and ordered his execution. However, Lucy intervened, convincing them that he may still have memories that would be useful to them. Later, she revealed herself to be a double agent for the Assassins and broke him out of Abstergo, driving him to an Assassin base in Rome.

When they arrived at the hideout, they were met by two members of the Order: Shaun Hastings, a British historian, and Rebecca Crane, a technician who had adapted Abstergo's Animus for the Order's purposes. There, Desmond relived the memories of Ezio Auditore da Firenze, an Assassin from Renaissance Italy, and during this time absorbed his combat and free-running skills, along with the so-called 'Eagle Vision' – an ability shared by both Altaïr and Ezio that allowed the user to 'see' the emotions and intentions of others. Near the end of Ezio's memories, a figure named Minerva appeared in a Vault concealed underneath the Sistine Chapel, passing on to Ezio a cryptic message about a terrible disaster that happened long ago that had not only obliterated her race, but came close to wiping out the human race too.

Then, at the very end of her monologue, she mentioned Desmond by name, confusing Ezio and shocking Desmond, Lucy, Shaun and Rebecca. The shock was short-lived, however, as they had to flee the hideout when they were discovered by Abstergo.

Despite a confrontation with Warren Vidic, the Abstergo employee who had originally overseen Desmond's Animus sessions, and several of his security guards, the group were able to escape and flee to the city of Monteriggioni, going into hiding underneath the Villa where Ezio's uncle Mario had lived and Ezio himself had trained. There, Desmond had relived Ezio's later memories of his time liberating Rome from the corrupt Borgia family. After the group discovered that Ezio had left a Piece of Eden in a second Vault underneath the Colosseum, they set out in the middle of the night to retrieve it.

That was where things took a turn for the worse.

When the group of Assassins reached the Vault and located the Piece of Eden, a being called Juno, another member of the First Civilisation, took control of Desmond's body and forced him to stab Lucy in the stomach, killing her.

After that, Desmond slipped into a coma from which he wouldn't awake for several weeks. To preserve his own consciousness and wake from his comatose state, he was once again placed in the Animus and relived more memories from both Ezio and Altaïr's later lives with the goal of reaching a 'Synch Nexus' – a state where the Animus could separate his memories from those of his ancestors. Eventually, through the Nexus, he received a message from a third member of the First Civilisation, known as Jupiter. Jupiter described in detail the disaster that had destroyed his race many thousands of years ago and how a future catastrophe could be avoided: by finding the Grand Temple.

After waking from his coma, Desmond, Shaun, Rebecca, and Desmond's father, William, headed for a third Vault hidden in the state of New York. Desmond relived the lives of Haytham Kenway, a Templar who lived during the eighteenth century, and his Assassin son Ratonhnhaké:ton, also known as Connor. Through these memories, the group located a key to the Grand Temple, where they discovered a pedestal, which, if activated, would prevent the apocalypse – a devastating solar flare like the one that had wiped out the First Civilisation – from happening. However, before Desmond could activate the pedestal, Minerva once again appeared before him with a warning that doing so would not only kill Desmond, but release Juno, who had been imprisoned there for trying to take over the world. Desmond believed that humanity would stand a better chance at fighting off Juno than it would in surviving the aftermath of the solar flare and activated the pedestal.

His story should have ended there. He should have died. Indeed, in the world where he was born, he _did_ die. But there are many, many worlds, no two exactly alike, and one's death in one world does not always mean the end of their story. If strong enough powers will it, an individual can be reincarnated elsewhere. And in the world where Desmond would find himself, there were very strong powers at work.

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**A brief recap of the events of Assassin's Creed, and we're away. Things will pick up next chapter, I promise.**


	2. Chapter 2: Awakened

**OK, I have to confess, the first chapter wasn't a great one. I promise I won't be boring any more!**

**Um, yeah. Right, here we go.**

* * *

A cool breeze wafting over his skin. The sound of running water. These small stimuli were enough to bring Desmond back to full wakefulness, for his eyes to flicker open. He had no idea what had happened to him, or where he was. If he was honest, he wasn't even sure of _who_ he was. All he knew for certain was that he was lying face-down in the dirt, his head hurt like crazy and the rest of his body ached as though he had gone several rounds with a heavyweight boxer.

With a groan, he rolled over onto his back to look around, only for the light from the sun, pretty low in the sky, to sting his unadjusted eyes. Combine that with the fact that he could feel the wind on his face and grass on his back, and that meant he must have been outside. He went to run his hand through his hair – whether in relief or despair he couldn't be sure – only to feel something very, very _wrong_.

As he ran his hand over his head, he couldn't feel any hair – instead, his hand touched fleshy skin that seemed to taper to what felt like a crest on his head. He then looked at his hand, and felt his heart stop as he saw, not his own familiar flesh, but a green appendage with only three fingers. He looked down at his chest and saw that his upper body was green in colour; his lower body and legs were white. He had a red fin-shaped protrusion sticking out of his chest and, feeling behind him, he suspected that a similar object protruded from his back. Further inspection of his arms revealed long spikes sticking out of his elbows. His legs ended in what looked like three toes, but apparently no feet.

Desmond was speechless. Every time he tried to speak, his breath caught in his throat. He felt sick, and he was sure he would vomit any second now. He looked around frantically and saw a small lake nearby; he rushed towards it and stared desperately at the humanoid abomination that was his reflection. It had red eyes, spikes on either side of its face and what looked like a crested helmet covering its head, with a teal-coloured crest and a vertical stripe of the same shade, just visible against the green of the rest of the 'helm'.

'What the... What... What the _fuck_?' he finally exclaimed. He immediately began to try and run through all the possible reasons for what had happened. He could be dreaming, he could have gotten drunk and passed out in the bar after hours, someone could have slipped some kind of drug into his food and he was hallucinating... All perfectly rational explanations, except he couldn't shake the horrible instinct that this, all of this, could actually be _real_.

'Oh man, this can't be happening!' Desmond screamed. He was close to hyperventilating, fear and panic overtaking him. He backed away from the horrifying image reflected in the lake and sat down on a tree stump conveniently located nearby. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to calm himself down. He didn't know how much time passed, but when he finally opened his eyes, the sun had lowered significantly. He guessed it was late afternoon or early evening by now.

Desmond took several deep breaths and finally looked around him to try to get a good idea of where he was.

He was in what appeared to be a small clearing in a forest with average-sized broad leaf trees. The lake where he had seen his reflection earlier was surrounded by cattail-like reeds with water lilies growing close to shore. From what Desmond could tell, he was somewhere with a temperate climate in the middle of late spring or early summer, judging by the leaves on the trees. It was very picturesque, but he couldn't help feeling that something was off.

Well, apart from the fact that he had apparently turned into some kind of mutant.

_Of course,_ Desmond thought. _The animals. _Yeah, that was it; he couldn't hear any animals. He put his hand near his ear (or rather, where his ear should be) and listened, but couldn't hear anything. No frogs croaking, no birds chirping, no insects buzzing; all he could hear was the wind blowing through the trees, the leaves rustling and a stream bubbling cheerfully into the lake nearby.

_How weird, _Desmond thought. He couldn't remember much, but he did know that in forest, animals could be heard all around, especially around water sources.

'Well,' he said at last, 'No one ever got anything done by sitting around.' And with that, he walked off into the woods, determined to search for a way out.

It was better than trying to process how utterly screwed up his life had become.

* * *

The more Desmond looked about him as he walked, the more astonished he became.

The forest he was in was full of some of the most massive trees he had ever seen up close, some being more than fifty feet high and trunks up to three feet thick. They were so close together that the light could barely penetrate the thick canopy, and where it did get through it created beautiful shafts of light that illuminated the ground in varying shades of green. The bushes had strange and unidentifiable berries on them, some looking like giant blueberries, others looking like spiked tomatoes, and still others looking like small brown watermelons with green stripes. It was one of the strangest and most beautiful places he had ever been, and he soon found that his fascination was overriding his fear and confusion at his current predicament.

_But where are all the animals? _he wondered again. Despite its beauty, the forest was eerily silent. He was so busy looking up and around, he didn't notice what was lying in his path until he tripped over it.

'Ow!' Desmond cried, more by instinct than anything else. He didn't have time to brace himself for the fall, and landed face-first on the ground.

'Oh, what the hell—' He immediately cut himself off when he saw what he had fallen over.

It was an egg. Okay, fine. But this was a really, really _big_ egg. He seemed to remember seeing ostrich eggs when he was young, something about there being lots of protein in them. This one was about the same size, pale brown in colour with pinkish dots lining its middle.

Desmond was terrified, not by the egg, but by what might have laid it. If it was nearby. Whether it would be aggressive if it found him, and, if it was, whether he should – or would even be able to – fight it off or run away. He immediately began backing away, only to stumble over _another _egg, similar to the last. It was only when Desmond scanned the ground more carefully that he saw, to his shock and horror, that there were at least twenty more eggs lying around. He had walked into some sort of nesting ground!

Desmond, moving as carefully and quietly as he could, tiptoed out of the clearing. It was too late. From behind him, Desmond heard buzzing. Loud buzzing. The kind of buzzing only some sort of insect would make. He turned around and felt his heart stop for a moment when he saw what was making the noise.

It _was_ an insect: a giant, three-foot long wasp, but with four legs and three massive stingers – one on its thorax, the other two at the ends of its arms. It had four wings on its back, huge red eyes and two black stripes crossing its yellow thorax.

It was something Desmond had believed only existed in his nightmares; he was shaking where he stood, and his heart beat so fast in his chest it hurt. All he could do was stare in horror as the _thing_ uttered a noise he had never heard before.

'_Beedrill!'_

* * *

**Yeah, is it any wonder Beedrill keep showing up as the aggressive species in the Pokémon anime? There's a reason you don't upset the things...**

**Anyway, the next chapter should be up soon. Until then, feel free to leave a review if you have the time, and see you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Swarm

First there was just the one. Then there were two more. Then five more. In total there had to be at least two dozen of those giant, hideous insects hovering all around him, each humming something that sounded like a combination of the words 'bee' and 'drill', like some sadistic chant before some unfortunate soul met their fate.

Desmond was at a complete loss as to what to do. He couldn't possibly fight all of them off, what with those massive stingers on their arms. He definitely couldn't scare them off either. Playing dead, maybe? No, they sounded far too pissed off for him to try that. The only option that could possibly result in his survival was to run away. But he couldn't see an opening anywhere, and even if he did, where would he run to? He could be hundreds of miles from the nearest human. But...it was probably his best chance at escape.

Slowly, not wanting to provoke them into an attack, he backed off, nervously looking for an opening. There _had_ to be a way out... There – the swarm hadn't totally surrounded him yet; he could try to slip out from behind and run. Yeah, that might work...

One step backwards, then two... Slowly, now...

_Damn it!_ For the third time, Desmond found himself stumbling over one of the eggs that had caused the trouble in the first place, and he ended up landing hard on his ass. The sudden movement and startled cry he let slip out were enough for the swarm, which surged forward, stingers flashing, and he threw up his – arms? – in an instinctive attempt to shield himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing, waiting for the horrible pain that was no doubt to come.

But it didn't come. Confused but not ungrateful for the lack of impalement, Desmond lowered his arms to risk taking a look, and gasped.

Shimmering before him was what he could only describe as some sort of force field: a spherical screen of translucent green facets that surrounded him on all sides, distorting his vision. Several of the wasp-things were reeling back in the air, wings humming frantically to keep them stable; still more were flying at him, only to rebound off the shield and tumble backwards like their fellows.

Desmond blinked, hard. _What the—?_ Then the shield vanished, leaving him still on his ass in the dirt and the swarm looking madder than ever.

Whatever had happened just then, whatever that weird power that had protected him was, he knew he couldn't hang around. He scrambled to his feet and, with every ounce of strength he could muster, dashed off into the forest at a speed that surprised even himself, the wasps following close behind.

* * *

Desmond Miles's predicament was not as unusual as it might have seemed. Angering a swarm of Beedrill is a valid risk in the world of Pokémon.

The world of Pokémon: a world of amazing creatures, wondrous beyond imagination, inhabiting the land, the sea, the air, even outer space. A world where myths and legends about these creatures are passed down from generation to generation, where shrines stand on honour of them, where some are even revered as deities. A world rumoured to have been created by one of them, sustained and kept in balance by others. It is even said that all of life descended from one of the hundreds of species. Little wonder, then, that from the moment humans gained sentience, they had been awed, intrigued, and terrified by Pokémon. In turn, some Pokémon saw humanity as a threat to their existence. Wars were waged, but little was resolved.

And yet, humans and Pokémon found a way to coexist. Pokémon began to lend their powers to the humans, assisting with tasks like construction or exploration. Some humans began to capture Pokémon and raise them as pets, friends or partners; some even began to battle with Pokémon for sport, and go on to travel with them over vast distances, honing their skills. These Pokémon Trainers ranged across all demographics, with even children leaving their homes and families with their Pokémon. They would travel across the land, battling against other Trainers, fated to either rise up among the greats or fall to those stronger. Some coveted the position of the Gym Leader of a city or town; others, that of a region's Champion. Among these latter Trainers: a young man called Ash Ketchum.

At the tender age of ten, Ash had set out to earn one of the most coveted titles the world had to offer: that of Pokémon Master. He had dreamed of catching every single Pokémon in the world since he was very little. Now having recently turned fourteen, he had come to realise that such an idea was blatantly impossible. However, he had actually encountered almost every species of Pokémon known, from common Magikarp and Pidgey, to extremely rare and powerful Pokémon of myths and fables, like Ho-Oh, Rayquaza and even the mythical Mew. He still had dreams – only now, older and slightly wiser, he wished to befriend the Pokémon he met on his travels rather than capture them, and to hone his battling skills through love and trust of the Pokémon he owned. Sometimes, though, he still even dared to consider the possibility of someday qualifying for the Champions League, and maybe even becoming Champion.

Right now though, Ash could hardly care less about entering the Champions League; he had enough to think about here and now. About a month before, he had received a telephone call saying that his mother, Delia Ketchum, had a very severe fever and had been briefly hospitalised. She had gotten somewhat better and was resting in bed, but she was still very sick. When Ash first heard the news, he had been horrified. Delia had always been the one constant in his life: always there when he needed her, always looking out for him, always strong – so the sudden reminder that his mother wasn't a superhero after all, was still subject to the whims of the world, had shaken him to the core. So much so, in fact, that he had immediately called two of his closest friends to blurt out the frightening news.

Misty had been instantly concerned, and had insisted that she accompany Ash home to Pallet Town so he could visit his mother. From his usually optimistic friend, this was serious business: he knew how dedicated Misty was to her position as Cerulean City's Gym Leader, so hearing her declare so decisively that she was willing to leave it behind came as a shock to Ash. Not that he was ungrateful; Misty had been the first Trainer he had come to travel with, and – although he would never have admitted or even acknowledged it at the time – his first mentor on his journey. If there was one person he wanted at his side at this time, especially after so long without seeing her, it was Misty. Besides, it wasn't as though he had a choice: when Misty decided to do something, she would do it, no arguments, no way of talking her out of it. No, she insisted, she would leave the Gym in the care of her sister and come to Pallet Town with him.

Brock too had obligations, but that didn't stop him declaring his intention to meet up with Ash either. At almost nineteen, Brock had seen his fair share of family crises – for about four years, he had been forced to act as a surrogate parent his nine younger siblings after both his mother and father left the household – so he was immediately sympathetic to Ash's plight. Despite the fact that that the last time Ash had seen him, a few months before, Brock had shared his desire to learn to be a Pokémon doctor, he too had elected to postpone his studies and join Ash on his trip home. And also like Misty, he had refused to take no for an answer, and both had done everything possible to reassure him that things would be all right, that Delia would get better, that she would be happy to see him again, and that he shouldn't worry so much lest he get sick himself. Besides, they said, Professor Oak lived nearby, and when he couldn't be there, Mimey would stay with her day and night to look after her.

His friends' words and their insistence to accompany him made Ash feel a little better about the situation. They were right – he was worrying, and that was making him unable to think logically. Of course Professor Oak would be looking out for his mother – it had been Oak who had contacted Ash in the first place – and nothing would stop the fiercely protective Mr Mime from looking after Delia. Still, he was desperate to get home and see her. Although he hadn't admitted it to anyone, even to Pikachu – his first Pokémon and best friend, with whom he had always shared everything, whatever it was that was bothering him – he was terrified of the possibility that the worst might happen.

The group had set up camp for the night just outside the Viridian Forest. The city was fairly close by, but they had decided that it would be safer to travel during the day than to risk a fight with one of the many nocturnal Pokémon that lived in the region. Ash was sitting on the ground outside the tent he was sharing with Brock, trying to distract himself by looking for all the constellations he could see in the sky. The moon was out, shining fully and brightly, illuminating the forest around him.

He sighed. He couldn't believe the woman who had taken care of him as a child, who helped him when his was hurt, sick, or simply scared of a spooky noise coming from a dark corner of his bedroom, had fallen ill. And it wasn't just that that was upsetting him. It had been a few months since his last visit, and although he had gone longer without visiting home – it was difficult to do so when he was travelling through another region – he felt guilty that he was so relatively close to her, and yet still apart. For the first time in a while, he wanted to see how she had been getting along without him. Because every time he went to leave home, he would ask her if she wanted him to stay with her a little longer; and every time, she would respond by saying she wanted him to be happy. He suspected that she really did want him to stay with her, and was sacrificing her happiness for him. It touched him and broke his heart at the same time.

What if she had gotten worse while they had been travelling to see her? What if she had fallen while getting out of bed and couldn't get up? What if—

'_Pikapi?'_ a soft, comfortingly familiar voice asked: Pikachu. He was a small Pokémon, only a few pounds, with bright yellow fur, a lightning bolt shaped tail, two red circles on his cheeks, and pointed ears that ended in black tips.

Ash gave the little Pokémon a gentle smile despite himself. It was difficult to remain sad for long when in the presence of such a loving friend.

'Hey there, Pikachu,' he said quietly. 'How are you doing?'

'_Pika,'_ Pikachu answered sadly. He was worried about Delia too. After spending going on for four years with his Trainer, the little Electric-type was as close to Delia as Ash was himself.

'Hang in there, buddy, we'll be there in a couple of days,' Ash said, in a voice he hoped was reassuring. It was more out of habit than anything else – whatever happened, he knew, Pikachu would always be there for him.

'_Chu,'_ Pikachu finished, then headed back into the tent. Ash put some more wood on the smouldering campfire to keep wild Pokémon away, then followed. His friends were right – it wouldn't do for him to stay awake worrying.

The memory of their words, however, were not enough to dispel the nightmare that plagued him that night. Ash wasn't usually one to have nightmares, especially at this age, but that night he found himself alone, running through an endless maze of corridors, desperately searching for the source of the voice that called his name.

'_Ash! Ash!'_

'Mom!' he called back, straining to hear where the cry was coming from. Desperate, he sped up, trying not to think of what might happen if he didn't find her. 'Mom! I'm coming!'

If Delia Ketchum heard him, there was no sign, just a soundtrack of his feet pounding on the floor, his own panting, his fluttering heart. Terrified, he pushed himself harder, forced his already straining body to move faster. He _had_ to reach her. Didn't allow himself to imagine what might be happening to her at that moment, to make her call for him so desperately, to make her sound so afraid.

Then the cry came again, more visceral now, and pained: _'Ash!'_

'Mom! I'm coming!'

Again, no sign that she had heard him. _'Help me! Someone help, please, anyone! Someone help me!'_

'Mom! Mom!' The words tore at his throat, raw from shouting and running. He felt very young again suddenly, even younger than when he had set off on his journey with Pikachu all that time ago; not the young man he had grown to become since. Just a kid again, desperate and afraid, and wanting his mother. Oh, man, where was she? What was happening to her?

'Mom!' he screamed again. Frantic now, he tried to speed up, only to stumble over his own feet. Pitching forward helplessly, he had only enough time to fling his arms out to catch himself so he could get back up and keep going. He _had_ to—

But the floor! It was suddenly falling away from underneath him, vanishing into nothingness. Nothing to catch him, and he was falling too, plunging down, down... He screamed one last time—

—and awoke in a tangle in his sleeping bag, bathed in a cold sweat, Pikachu standing by him with big worried eyes.

In the moment of disorientation that comes with a sudden jerk from sleep, Ash's conscious mind was flailing, trying to grasp the situation, so it was only when Pikachu's long ears turned towards the tent flap that Ash realised that the cries for help he had heard weren't actually in his dream, but coming from outside.

'Ash? What—' Roused by the noise, Brock was clearly seeking an explanation as to why his friend was scrabbling around inside their tent at such a time at night.

'No time!' Not even bothering to put a jacket on, Ash crammed his feet into his sneakers and scrambled out into the night air, Pikachu ahead of him. In the light of the moon, still uncovered by clouds, he could easily make out the shapes of what seemed like hundreds of furiously buzzing Beedrill; and another, lone Pokémon lying unconscious just feet from his tent, covered in a substance he thought might be blood. Of the man – for it was, now he thought about it, a male voice that he had heard – who had been calling for help, there was no sign.

'Oh, man,' he exclaimed, a sentiment immediately echoed by Brock behind him.

'What's happening?' Misty too had heard the commotion and was stumbling sleepily from her tent. Then, 'Aah! Bugs!' There it was: Misty's entomophobia rearing its ugly head again. They had grown used to it.

'There's a Pokémon on the ground over there! I think it's been attacked!' Ash cried. The swarm was growing larger as they spoke, several flying out of the trees to join their fellows. There were easily a few dozen of them, maybe more; it was hard to tell, what with their erratic movements and the limited light. 'But where's its Trainer?'

Brock was already preparing for battle, a Poké Ball clutched in each hand. Ash could have kicked himself; he had been so intent on finding whoever had been shouting for help that he had left his own Poké Balls in the tent, in a pocket of his jacket. At least Brock was on the case.

'We'll worry about that later. We gotta get rid of these Beedrill first! Chansey, Croagunk, let's go!' With that, Brock hurled the two Poké Balls to the ground. Out of one emerged a pink, egg-shaped Pokémon with stubby arms, a pouch carrying what appeared to be an egg, and a short tail. The other opened to reveal a blue frog-like creature with orange cheek pouches and huge yellow eyes.

'Chansey, use Hyper Beam! And Croagunk, use Brick Break!' Brock called. A ball of energy formed near Chansey's mouth, and hardly a second later a beam of highly concentrated energy shot out and blasted a large group of the Beedrill away. Chansey began to pant heavily, having been worn out by such a powerful attack. One Beedrill flew straight at the Normal-type Pokémon, taking advantage of her temporary incapacitation, only for Croagunk to hit it so hard in the thorax that it went spinning through the air to crash into one of its fellows.

'Good job, Croagunk,' congratulated Brock. Croagunk glanced back at his Trainer briefly, but kept his focus squarely on the swarm. Chansey too straightened back up and took a determined stance, but not before shooting her battle partner a grateful look.

'We'll help too! Now go, Starmie!' Misty cried, throwing one of her own Poké Balls down. This one burst open too, revealing a purple, starfish-shaped Pokémon with ten legs and an octagonal gemstone on its centre.

Misty went straight on the attack. 'Starmie, use Psyshock!' This time, a blob of pure psychic energy manifested in front of Starmie's red jewel, and the Pokémon hurled it at the Beedrill. The blob exploded violently when it hit the ground, the super-effective attack causing several of the Beedrill to get blasted away, and still others to flee the scene.

But the rest of the swarm, furious at this attack on their fellows, went on the offensive too. One particularly large bug zipped down and swiped at Starmie with one of its arm stingers, knocking the Water-type backwards. Several more simultaneously launched Poison Sting attacks at the group, forcing the three Trainers to leap backwards, out of range. 'Starmie! Are you all right?' Misty cried.

The Water-type shook itself vigorously, then balanced back on its points with a short cry. However, another Beedrill was diving towards it, readying itself to strike with Twineedle.

Ash saw this. 'Pikachu, intercept with Quick Attack!'

The little Electric-type immediately took a couple of steps, then launched himself at the offending bug. If an onlooker had blinked at that crucial moment, it would have seemed to them that the Beedrill had run into an invisible wall, so fast was the attack that connected with it. For his part, Pikachu landed next to Starmie, as nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

'Thanks,' was all Misty had time to say to Trainer and Pokémon before the fight was on again.

To Ash's right, Chansey and Croagunk were battling side by side, Chansey batting bugs aside with Pound as though they weighed little more than Hoppip; as he watched, one was sent tumbling head-over-stinger back into the trees with a single blow. Beside her, Croagunk rammed Brick Break after Poison Jab into his opponents with methodical, deadly precision. Closer by, Starmie was cutting a swathe through the swarm with its Hydro Pump, keeping several Beedrill at bay with the high-pressure stream of water.

Several of the opponents flew at Pikachu now, but at a call of 'Iron Tail!', the Electric-type leapt, his long tail glowing and acquiring a metallic sheen; with one swipe, he sent the attackers flying.

But as much to their advantage the battle was turning, it was hard for Ash to forget that there was another, possibly critically injured Pokémon lying close by. They had to end this now, and there was only ever one way to do that.

'Okay, Pikachu, let's finish this! Use Thunderbolt!' Ash yelled over the sounds of battle. Pikachu's little paws clenched into determined fists, and he began to charge up with electricity.

'_Pi-ka...chuuuu!'_ With a furious yell, Pikachu shot a powerful bolt of lightning at the remaining Beedrill as they buzzed towards their group, blasting many away into the night. The remainder of the swarm, apparently collectively deciding to stuff it for the night and head back home, suddenly turned tail and flew off back into the forest, leaving nothing behind but three very stunned Trainers, three equally shocked Pokémon, and a nonchalant Croagunk.

Ash was breathing heavily, trying to calm down after the adrenaline rush he'd just experienced. It was so odd. He'd never seen Beedrill attack in such massive numbers before. Even when his ten-year-old self had managed to anger a swarm in this very forest, that day when his Metapod had been torn from his cocoon and evolved into Butterfree to protect him, the swarm had been much smaller than this. Something must've happened to make them really mad...

Then he gasped, suddenly remembering again the injured Pokémon that had stumbled into their camp.

Ever the medic, Brock was already on his knees next to the unconscious Pokémon, Chansey at his side and ready to help. Ash raced over to them. Up close, he could see that the dark substance staining the Pokémon's body consisted of a mixture of blood and something he couldn't identify.

'That's a Gallade, right?' Ash had seen one before, under the ownership of Zoey, a Pokémon Coordinator he had met in Sinnoh. This one was definitely not Zoey's – it was rather stockier in build, and its crest stripe was a slightly darker shade of teal to the one that Zoey's Gallade possessed. 'What's wrong with it?'

'Looks like he's been poisoned. The Beedrill must have stung him.' Brock barely looked up from his patient. 'Misty, can you get the first aid kit?' he called over.

'Sure.' There was the sound of a Poké Ball activating – Starmie retreating for some much-needed rest – then soft footsteps heading towards the boys' tent.

'Do you think this Gallade's what upset the Beedrill?' Ash asked. Brock's soft grunt was all the confirmation he needed. 'So where's its Trainer?' he asked again.

This time Brock looked up. 'How—' He was interrupted by Misty's return with the necessary kit. 'Thanks.' Turning back to the Gallade, he addressed Ash again. 'How do you know if Gallade has a Trainer or not?'

'I heard him,' Ash insisted. 'Someone was outside calling for help. I heard.'

'Ash,' Misty said gently, 'are you sure you weren't just dreaming?'

For some reason, Ash found himself blushing. He put it down to being contradicted. In many ways, Ash still _was_ a child. 'I _was_ dreaming. But I'm telling you, I heard someone shouting for help! That's what woke me up!'

'All right.' Brock raised his hands in a peaceable gesture before things could get out of hand. He knew well how quickly things could escalate when Ash and Misty argued. 'Maybe Ash _did_ hear something. _But_—' he raised his voice over the younger boy's adamant protest. '—right now, this Gallade needs help, so let's put him first for now, all right?' Receiving murmurs of assent from his companions, Brock continued looking the Gallade over. 'Good. Chansey,' he requested, 'can you use Softboiled, please?'

'_Chan,'_ was the peaceable reply. The Pokémon's egg began to glow a soft yellow in the night. With a gesture, the glow formed a ball of light that floated towards the Gallade and melted into its body. The unconscious Pokémon twitched in its sleep, and gave a soft moan, but its laboured breathing instantly grew easier. Before the group's eyes, several small wounds closed themselves as though in fast-forward.

'Thank you, Chansey,' Brock said softly. Softboiled was a sacrificial move, Ash knew, costing the Pokémon using it some of its own stamina in order to heal another. Since she was already tired from the battle, Chansey wouldn't be able to use the move again for a while without endangering herself.

'Will it be enough?' he wondered aloud.

Brock examined the Gallade closely. 'It'll help, for a while. But Gallade's been poisoned too.'

'Do we have any Pecha Berries?' Misty asked. The sweet-tasting fruit was well-known for its property to neutralise the effects of a Pokémon's venom.

But Brock shook his head. 'It looks like he's been stung several times. I don't think Pecha Berries'll make a dent in this. He needs specialist help.'

Ash made a decision then, one of his famous split-second without-thinking I'm-probably-gonna-regret-this-later decisions. He knew that this Pokémon needed help – fast. But there was the Pokémon's Trainer to think about. What would happen if he showed up and his Pokémon was missing? More to the point, what if the Trainer had been hurt by the Beedrill too and needed help himself? The thought was enough to justify his statement of: 'I'll take him to the Pokémon Center. You guys stay here and look for his Trainer. He has to be close by.'

Pikachu nodded, agreeing with the plan. _'Pika.'_

'But—'

'Ash—'

Then Brock caught himself. He knew his friend well enough to know that when Ash said he was going to do something, he meant it. Besides, the younger Trainer was already hauling the unconscious Gallade onto his shoulder. 'Chansey, can you go with him?' he asked his Pokémon.

'_Chan.'_ Gently, Chansey took the Gallade from Ash, taking the whole weight of the Psychic-type in her arms. Not for the first time, Ash was surprised at and grateful for Chansey's immense physical strength.

Misty, however, wasn't impressed. 'But Ash—'

'I can handle it, Misty,' he interrupted. 'Just look for Gallade's Trainer. Please. He could be hurt.'

She didn't like it, that much was obvious, but she said, 'OK.'

A thought occurred to Ash, and he ran back to his tent for a moment. He emerged with his jacket on, ramming his trusty cap atop his mess of black hair. 'Here,' he said to his friend, then took out a Poké Ball of his own. 'Noctowl, I choose you!'

The Pokémon in question emerged from its Ball in a burst of sparkles. This was normal for Ash's Noctowl; rather than the normal brown colouring its species possessed, this one's plumage was a magnificent golden colour, and its wing feathers were a deep orange-gold. Noctowl hovered in the air now, waiting.

'Noctowl,' Ash said, 'stay with Misty and Brock. Look for this Gallade's Trainer. I think he's around the forest somewhere, 'kay?' The Flying-type's night-piercing eyes would make it easier to search.

Noctowl gave a hoot, which Ash took as assent.

'All right. Come on, guys,' he said to Pikachu and Chansey. With that, the threesome set off towards the lights of the city.

'Ash—'

He turned back at Misty's worried voice. 'What's up?'

His friend seemed to swallow hard before she said, 'Don't you make me have to come bail you out of trouble, all right?'

Ash smiled. 'Course.'

It was only after he had been walking with Pikachu and Chansey for a few minutes that he realised that he was feeling less frightened for his mother. He was back in his element, doing what he did best. Huh.

And if Gallade turned out to be all right, and if Brock and Misty found his Trainer, Ash would feel even better.

* * *

**Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. My computer crashed on me a few weeks ago and I've only just had it repaired. Technology at its least reliable.**

**A bit of trivia: did you know that entomophobia is the fear of insects? I didn't until I looked it up.**

**Thanks for reading, and thank you for being patient with me. I promise the next chapter won't take as long.**


	4. Chapter 4: Strange New World

_Falling... falling..._

_Desmond had been falling down for several minutes, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Bright colours swirled and flashed in his vision, almost blinding him. He couldn't remember anything that happened, couldn't get his thoughts straight. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? He had no answer. All he knew was that he was falling very fast, very far, and he was fairly likely to have some sort of seizure any second, what with all the flashing lights. Bright and intense, they whirled around him and left streaks in his vision, blue and white, like inside the Animus—_

_The Animus—_

_It hit him, then, memories of his past life rushing back to him like a raging storm. He remembered everything. Abstergo. Vidic. Lucy, Rebecca, Shaun. Altaïr, Ezio, Haytham and Connor. The Apple. Subject Sixteen. Jupiter, Juno, Minerva. The Vault, the pedestal, touching it, dying..._

_He was dead. He didn't want to believe it, wanted to think it was all just a really bad dream, but there was no denying it. He had felt it; felt his strength, his soul, everything, ripped from him, and darkness smothering his thoughts. And then – this._

_It had been bad enough waking up in some strange forest with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. Finding out that he had been turned into some sort of humanoid freak had been ten times worse. He had almost managed to convince himself that he must have been in some sort of nightmare, but any hopes of his predicament being nothing more than a bad dream that would eventually burn away with the morning sun were dashed when he figured that once you _realized_ you were in a dream, you could control whatever happened in it. And he was sure as shit that if he could control his dreams, they wouldn't involve him being chased through the woods by giant movie-monster bugs with massive spikes for arms and being stung who knew how many times._

_It was only after he had been running for what must have been over an hour that he thought he might have spotted a glimmer of hope. By some kind of miracle, he had spied a small smouldering campfire and a pair of tents, sitting in a clearing. The wasps' venom had made everything blurry, and he wasn't certain if what he saw was real or just a hallucination, but it was the only hope he'd had. With every last bit of strength he had, he'd torn through the underbrush and dashed around trees, screaming at the top of his lungs for help. That was all he remembered before ending up – well, here, wherever here was._

_It didn't change the facts. He was dead, and had somehow ended up in some afterlife where he was a freakish mutant and hideous bugs flew the skies. Maybe this was Hell; no fire or brimstone, just terrifying monsters._

_It was kind of a disappointment, actually._

_Suddenly, he heard a voice, echoing through the void: 'He has accomplished his task, what more do we need of him?'_

_Minerva. It had to be – no other voice held that same mix of serenity and command. What was she doing there? Hadn't he suffered enough?_

_Another voice answered her. 'There is more to the situation than you think. This one is needed here as well.' He couldn't recognize who this second voice was, but it spoke with an undeniable authority and power that exceeded any he had ever heard. The voice certainly didn't belong to Jupiter or Juno, of that he was certain. In fact, he wasn't even sure if it was male or female. It had to have been one of them, though: Those Who Came Before. But where exactly was this 'here' where he was apparently needed? For they had to be talking about him; he had, after all, spent the past four months living through the lives of four other men, being contacted by Minerva and her counterparts._

'_But, Your Highness—'_

'_Minerva, please, do not question me.'_

'_So be it. I will not deny your judgment, Lord Arceus. If you believe his fate shall lead him to your world, I won't stand in your way.' Arceus? Was that the other voice? It certainly wasn't a name Desmond had ever heard before._

_Whoever this 'Arceus' was, they answered, 'Good. Now, what of the dilemma with Juno?'_

_Desmond was surprised to hear genuine sadness in Minerva's tone when she spoke. 'She is wreaking utter havoc in our world. Hundreds of millions of innocents are dead already, and perhaps a hundred million more will be dead in less than a year.' Minerva paused for a moment, and sounded almost pleading when she said, 'If we are going to stop her, Lord Arceus, we will need the help of you and your allies.'_

_Desmond was horrified at this. Guilt crashed down on him like a waterfall. Hundreds of millions of innocent people dead, all because he had released Juno onto the world. And what about the others? Rebecca, Shaun, his father? Were they still alive, or had he doomed them?_

_He should have listened to Minerva. He shouldn't have sacrificed himself; shouldn't have tried to be a hero. He should have left Juno where she was, where she couldn't harm anyone. Should have done something else, anything else, because this, this was—_

_His thoughts were interrupted as the swirling lights grew in intensity and a booming sound entered his ears. If the one called Arceus replied, Desmond didn't hear it. Then, everything started to clear, and he began to accelerate, involuntarily, towards the end of the tunnel he was falling through. He fell faster and faster, towards the sound of people talking, and he began to feel something soft on his back, something that felt like a hospital bed; and the all-too-familiar sensation of an IV drip pinching in his arm. He got closer and closer, and could just make out voices; a child, maybe, a boy..._

'—he'll be okay?'

_And a woman, replying..._

'He'll be fine. He'll need to rest for a day or two, but the antitoxin will counteract the poison and he'll be back to normal soon. You did the right thing by bringing him here so quickly.'

_The voices were close now, just metres away... He tried to turn in their direction, opened his eyes..._

And he was no longer falling, but lying on his back, encased by crisp sheets. The swirling colours had faded, replaced by a soft yellow glow, but he still had to squint. _Where... am I...?_

'_Pikapi!'_ The sound was sudden, unexpected, and one Desmond had never heard before – kind of a cross between a squeak and a mew; it meant nothing to him, but, inexplicably, something in his mind _clicked_, and the sound transformed into a single word: _'Ash!'_

_What... What the hell just happened?_

Now Desmond opened his eyes fully, and tried to sit up, take in his surroundings. However, his limbs shook beneath him, refusing to support his weight, and something tugged on his arm, restricting any movement. An IV drip. Something was strapped across his face. And the beeping noise – was that a heart monitor? Oh, God, _was he in another lab_?

Desmond began to panic. Was he back with Abstergo? Was he about to be strapped into another Animus? Had they—

Then a hand touched his shoulder, very gently, and a kind female voice spoke: 'Easy, now. Easy. It's all right.'

The soft tone directed his attention to the speaker: a youngish woman, blue-eyed and wearing an expression that was obviously meant to be calming. Unless Desmond's eyesight was shot – which, considering the retina-searing experience he had just had – she appeared to have pink hair. Who the hell had pink hair? In short, Desmond was anything but calmed.

Clearly oblivious to his discomfort, the woman continued talking. 'You're in the Viridian City Pokémon Center. Ash here—' here she gestured over to the other side of his bed, where a dark-haired teenager was standing over him, '—found you passed out near the forest; you were attacked by a swarm of Beedrill. Do you understand?'

Did he understand? No, he sure as hell didn't. And why was this woman talking to him like he was a kid, anyway?

_Oh. Right._ A quick glance at the arm with the IV drip in it confirmed what he already feared: he was still a mutant. So what, he was going to be treated like an animal now? Was he going to be experimented on or something? And what in hell was 'Poke-ay-mon', anyway?

The kid standing beside him spoke now. 'Man, I'm glad you're awake. I was worried about you.'

This was just too much to take in.

'_What the hell's going on?'_, he tried to say, but the thing strapped across his face muffled his words, so it sounded to his ears like a series of random noises. Frustrated, he reached up with his free hand-but-not-his-hand to rip away the obstruction. 'What the hell is going on? Who are you?'

Desmond didn't know what he'd expected. A little animosity, maybe. Certainly not identical looks of complete, utter shock.

Both the woman and the boy stared at him, both apparently stunned into silence. Finally, the boy spluttered, 'You... You can talk?'

Desmond frowned, or attempted to – who knew with his new face? 'What? I— Of course I can talk. I'm human.' He stared down at his hand, clutching what he now realised was an oxygen mask. 'I thought... I thought I was a human...'

'You... you say you used to be a human?' the woman asked.

'Yeah, I— I guess. I woke up in the middle of some forest, and I was some sort of mutant freak, and after wandering around for a few hours I ran into some freaky bugs with stingers for arms, and they chased me and I passed out in some campsite. And apparently this kid brought me to this – place, whatever the hell this is.'

The woman, business-like now, moved over to check the heart monitor. 'Well, the forest you woke up in would have been the Viridian Forest. The "bugs" you encountered were Beedrill, and the "mutant" you are is a Gallade.'

Desmond shook his head slowly. 'I've never heard of the Viridian Forest before. And I've never heard of a – "Gallade" – before either. Or a Beedrill.' Now he looked up, feeling completely helpless all of a sudden. 'Where am I? What's happened to me?'

'How can a Pokémon have no idea what species it is?' the boy asked nobody in particular. He was probably around thirteen, brown-eyed, with a mess of black hair sticking up all over his head. He was kind of short; how had that skinny kid managed to carry him here?

Something squeaked at him from across the bed; when he looked along the length of his body, covered by a crisp white sheet, he spotted a small yellow creature staring at him with curiosity. Had that thing made that noise? More to the point, why had the words _'How can a human turn into a Pokémon?'_ popped into his head for no reason?

'Look, who the hell are you? What is that thing, and what's a... "Pokémon"?' he finally asked.

'You really don't know what a Pokémon is?' the boy asked. It might have been Desmond's still-fuzzy head, but the kid looked utterly dumbfounded.

'No...' he said.

'Well...' The boy picked up the yellow furball sitting on his bed. 'This is a Pokémon. And, uh... so's this.' He gestured behind him with one hand, indicating a chair close by. Perched on it was a large pink thing that looked kind of like a mutated egg. 'And those bugs that attacked you, they're Pokémon too – Beedrill.'

Desmond's head was spinning. What _was_ all this?

'Ash?' The pink-haired woman was looking at the boy. 'Maybe we should explain to him, if he really doesn't know.'

'Uh... sure.'

She turned to Desmond. 'I'm Nurse Joy. I'm in charge of the Viridian City Pokémon Center, where we are now. You could call it a hospital for Pokémon.'

'I...' He shook his head again. 'I'm sorry, I still don't know what you mean by "Pokémon".'

When the two had finished explaining the crazy world he had somehow wound up in – its history, its culture, its creatures – he found that he was still at a loss for words.

'Okay. So let me get this straight. I was supposed to have died, but I've instead somehow wound up in a world full of supernatural creatures that can breathe fire, turn themselves into water, or even _eat dreams_; and I've apparently turned into one of them, something called a "Gallade". Right?'

'That's right,' the woman called Nurse Joy said.

'You died?' He turned his head to see the boy staring at him with fascination. 'You died, and you came here from a world without Pokémon?'

'Yeah.' Desmond had been very careful not to divulge too much information about his life. He had said he was a bartender in a city called New York who had sacrificed his life to save someone (which wasn't really a lie, but judging by what he had heard Minerva say, it wasn't quite true either) and then had found himself in this world. He said nothing whatsoever about the Assassins or Templars, the Pieces of Eden, anything that would arouse suspicion. 'I just wish I knew what to do now,' he sighed.

Nurse Joy became suddenly business-like. 'Well, for now you need to rest. I've given you an antidote to heal the poisoning, but you're still very weak.' Then she smiled kindly. 'You'll need to rest for a day or so, but you'll be up on your feet again in no time.' Turning to go, she said, 'I'll be in the reception if you need me.'

''kay,' the boy called. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down by Desmond's bed. 'Wow, I'm sure glad you're okay. I was real worried.'

'Yeah. Thanks.' Desmond was quiet for a moment. 'Who are you, anyway?'

'I'm Ash. And this is my partner, Pikachu,' he said, indicating the yellow creature now sitting in his lap, which squeaked at him merrily. Then he pointed at the pink egg-shaped being. 'That's Chansey. She carried you here.'

'_Chan chansey,'_ it said, and for the third time, Desmond heard a phrase pop into his head unbidden: _'I'm happy you're feeling better. I was concerned.'_

The kid paused for a moment, clearly pondering something. 'Um, what's your name?'

Desmond hesitated before answering. Since running away from the Farm all that time ago, he had rarely used his real name for fear of being tracked down. But if it was true that he _was_ in another world, there was probably little harm in being truthful for once. 'Desmond.' Gingerly, he tried to sit up, only to wince as his muscles protested against the sudden return to motion. 'Man! Feels like I've been run over by a truck...'

'Beedrill can be nasty if you get on the wrong side of them. They must have gotten really upset.'

'I guess...' Thinking back, he said, 'All I did was trip over an egg... Was that your campsite I passed out in? What happened after that?'

'Yeah. Me and my friends were camping there. I heard someone shouting outside and went out to see what was up.' Here the kid looked a little embarrassed. 'When I saw you on the ground, I assumed that it had been your Trainer calling for help. But it was you, wasn't it?'

He nodded. 'I guess I really have changed,' he muttered.

'Here.' He looked up to find Ash holding out some sort of handheld device. It looked kind of like an oversized flip-out cell phone, made of some red metallic material. 'This is what you are.' The kid turned the device so Desmond could see a screen displaying an image of the humanoid creature he had seen in his reflection, while a computerised voice blared from a speaker.

'_Gallade, the Blade Pokémon, and an evolved form of Kirlia. Gallade extends the blades in its elbows as if they were swords, and fights savagely to protect others.'_

_Hmph. Figures I'd get reincarnated as something that has Hidden Blades built into its body,_ Desmond thought sarcastically. Curious despite himself, he tested his new ability with his free arm, flexing the sore muscles, trying to remember how his ancestors had used their concealed weapons. Sure enough, a sword-like blade suddenly extended out of his elbow. 'Whoa.' Then, suspicious, he nodded to the electronic device in the kid's hand. 'What's that?'

'It's a Pokédex. It stores information about different species of Pokémon. Look.' With a press of a few buttons, a picture of the yellow creature Ash had called 'Pikachu' popped up on the screen, and the same voice spoke again.

_ 'Pikachu, the Mouse Pokémon, and the evolved form of Pichu. It can generate electric shocks from the electrical pouches located on its cheeks, and uses this ability to roast hard berries.'_

'Huh,' was all Desmond could say to that. Then he groaned, 'Oh, man, my back is hurting like crazy...'

'You should get some rest. We'll stay in the Pokémon Center and wait.'

'Yeah. Sure...'

With a smile, Ash and the two Pokémon stood up and left, leaving Desmond to ponder his newfound existence in this strange new world.

* * *

'So we managed to fight off the Beedrill, and Brock's Chansey helped me carry Gallade to the Pokémon Center. And when he woke up, he said that he used to be a human and lived in a world without Pokémon. What do you think, Professor?' Ash finished.

Several hours had passed since Ash had raced into the Viridian City Pokémon Center with Chansey and the injured Pokémon. After leaving the Gallade, the first thing he had done was to rush to one of the Pokémon Center's phones and call Brock on his Pokégear. Unsurprisingly, he and Misty had been unsuccessful in their search for the Gallade's Trainer, and had headed back to the camp to pack up their gear. They had shown up an hour later, Noctowl in tow, and Ash had wasted no time in filling them in on what had transpired.

Understandably, both of his friends had been shocked and fascinated in equal measure. It was now daylight, and Ash was back on the videophone, this time to Professor Oak.

Professor Samuel Oak was the leading Pokémon researcher in the Kanto region, and highly respected among his colleagues all over the Pokémon world. As such, he thought he had seen everything in his half a decade of living with and studying Pokémon. Ash's story, therefore, had left his face, projected to the young Trainer through the screen, wearing an expression of complete bafflement.

'Ash, I don't know what to say. This sort of occurrence is something I've never heard of before. I didn't even think it was possible for a human to suddenly metamorphose into a Pokémon, let alone for it to happen to one from another world altogether. Are you sure that that is the case, Ash?'

'That's what he said, Professor. And I don't think he'd be lying to us. He had no idea what a Pokémon even was until we told him.' Ash was certain that the Gallade called Desmond was telling the truth. His panicked reaction to waking up in the Pokémon Center and his confusion as to what he was were certainly genuine. Besides, it was the most logical explanation as to why no one but the Gallade had been around when he had heard the cry for help – there was no way someone could have gotten out of sight so quickly, and there was certainly no way that any Trainer worth his salt would willingly abandon his Pokémon in the midst of an attack rather than stay to protect it, or simply return it to its Poké Ball. That was what he said to Professor Oak, anyway.

'Hm. You have a point,' the older man conceded. 'And you're certain that the Gallade was talking aloud?'

The question wasn't as unusual as it might have seemed: Pokémon had been known, historically, to talk. More than that, it was a recorded fact that some species of Psychic-, Ghost- and Dark-type Pokémon possessed the ability to communicate telepathically, to communicate their thoughts and intentions in a way that humans could understand. Therefore, it wouldn't have been a complete shock if the Gallade, being part Psychic-type itself, had done so. On the other hand, a Pokémon that could actually _speak_ human language was all but unheard of. There were very few recorded instances of such an event occurring, and even fewer of a Pokémon having a fluent understanding of the language. In this case, however, it was indisputable: the injured Gallade had talked.

'I'm _sure_, Professor,' Ash insisted. 'Nurse Joy heard him too.'

Oak thought about this for a minute. 'Does our Gallade friend have a name?'

'Yeah. He says he's called Desmond. And he also says he has no idea about where he is.' Here Ash hesitated for a bit before blurting out what was on his mind. 'Professor, d' you think it'd be okay if Desmond came with us?'

'What?' The professor's expression said it all.

'If he travelled with me and Misty and Brock,' Ash clarified. 'Just until he finds his way in the world. We wouldn't make him fight battles or anything unless he wanted to, and we'd make sure he's looked after.'

'_Pika,'_ Pikachu agreed.

Oak didn't look convinced. 'Ash, I'm not sure he would like being carried around in a Poké Ball—'

'He wouldn't,' the young Trainer interrupted. 'He could walk around with us, like Pikachu.'

'Have you discussed this idea with him, or with your friends, for that matter?'

'Uh...' Now that he thought about it, it was rather careless that he hadn't asked Brock and Misty what they thought about his idea. It had come to him during the night when he had been about to drop off to sleep. Ash had always been willing to help someone in need; he had almost lost count of the situations he had found himself in over his travels because of his desire to assist someone. This, however, was something very different, and he felt guilty that he hadn't thought it through before.

Seeing the young man's concern, Oak spoke more kindly. 'Ask your friends about it, and see what they think. I myself think it might be a good idea; it would help him find his way, and he might keep you out of trouble.' The professor knew well Ash's tendency to get into various scrapes when left to his own devices. 'Remember though, it really doesn't matter what any of us want. It would have to be left up to Desmond to decide what he wants to do.'

Perking up, Ash agreed. 'Okay.'

'Good.'

'Professor?' Ash asked.

'Yes, Ash?'

'How is my mother doing?'

Professor Oak smiled kindly at the boy. 'She's doing much better. Mimey's been doing a great job of looking after her. Her fever has lessened, and she should be back on her feet within a month.'

Ash sighed in relief. All of a sudden, he felt as if great weight had been lifted from his chest. His nightmare, it seemed, hadn't meant anything – except, of course, that he'd been worrying too much. Of course she was all right. With Mimey, Professor Oak and Tracey around, there was always someone looking out for her.

'I'll come see her as soon as Desmond's healed up,' he decided. 'You're sure she'll be okay?'

'I'm positive, Ash. Now,' he said, his voice taking on a fatherly tone, 'you should probably get some rest too. You look like you've been up all night!'

Ash was about to protest, but he yawned instead. It was true, he _was_ tired. He'd try and get some more sleep once he'd spoken to everybody.

'Sure, Professor.'

'Take care, Ash. I'll speak to you soon.'

'Yeah, bye.' Pikachu, meanwhile, called out his own goodbye: _'Pika!'_

Oak smiled at the two, then the screen went blank. Now Ash just had to plug his idea to the others.

_Could be interesting,_ he thought.

* * *

When Ash had gathered his friends in Desmond's hospital room, he found the human Gallade awake and sitting up. He looked much better for a night's sleep – his skin was much less pale, his breathing easier, and the wounds on his torso were mostly healed, thanks to a combination of Chansey's use of Softboiled while at the forest and a Hyper Potion at the Pokémon Center.

'Hey, Desmond,' he greeted.

'Hi,' was the gruff response. One hand gestured to Ash's companions. 'They your friends, huh?'

'Yeah.' Ash stood by in silence as he let his friends introduce themselves. Inside, he was feeling a bit nervous. He had already pitched his idea to Misty and Brock before coming in. The three of them had discussed it at length, the pros and cons of having another travelling companion. In the end, they had decided that it was a pretty good idea in the long run – Desmond would be able to find his feet more quickly, and he would probably be a responsible influence on Ash when Misty and Brock needed to return to their respective obligations. Getting Desmond to agree, however, might end up being a whole different ball game.

'Desmond.' Brock had apparently taken it upon himself to speak for the group.

'Yeah?'

'You said you know nothing about this world, right?'

'Yeah.' The Gallade looked edgy.

'Well, we were travelling to Pallet Town when we found you. Ash was—'

Ash glared at his friend, irritated.

'Well, we were thinking: you could travel there with us, and wherever we decide to go afterwards. At least, for the time being.'

'You don't have to,' Misty was quick to add. 'But you can come with us if you want.'

Ash and his friends watched with bated breath as the human Gallade pondered, his brow furrowed in thought.

'All right. That sounds like a good idea to me,' he said eventually.

'Great! Then it's settled,' Brock smiled. 'We'll hang around until you're feeling back to normal, then we can set off. It isn't far to Pallet Town.'

Ash beamed with joy. 'This is so awesome! It'll be so cool having a talking Pokémon around. Now I can brag to all those stupid Trainers who think they're better than me that I have—'

'Ash!' Misty cut him off sharply.

Ash shut up abruptly, clamping his lips tightly together; he could feel his face turning red. 'Oh... Sorry, Desmond.'

'We really try to keep a lid on his big mouth,' Misty apologised, shooting Ash her familiar glare.

Thankfully, the Gallade didn't seem to be offended. 'Nah, don't be. You're just being kids. My advice: enjoy it while it lasts.'

'Yeah.' Brock quickly stepped in. 'Now that's settled, why don't we all get some more rest before we set off? We don't want anyone collapsing on the way.'

'Right.' Despite his agreement, inside, Ash was fizzing with excitement. Not only would he be seeing his mom again real soon, he and his friends had a new travelling companion. He couldn't wait to set off for home.

_This could be the start of a whole new adventure!_


End file.
